


chef de cuisine

by xlightless



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe - Chefs, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-22 22:53:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17671655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xlightless/pseuds/xlightless
Summary: In Yoo Youngjae’s kitchen, he reigns over all, from the shining chrome countertops to the massive walk-in refrigerator. So, when he has to take leave for a family emergency, he’s surprised to find a new chef as his substitute. He doesn’t like this Kim Himchan and his impossibly friendly demeanor, his magnetic smile, his loud laughter—Youngjae wants him out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oops. Here I go again. Inspired by the movie No Reservations bc it’s one of my favorite romcoms. Catherine Zeta-Jones can ruin me and I’d be okay with it.

The scene starts like this.   
  
Yoo Youngjae knows how to cook a steak. He can do it with his eyes closed. The sizzling sound of a good sear is all he needs. The savory scent wafting up his nose is what keeps him looking forward to another day. He steps from station to station with a certainty that comes with years of training and observing renowned chefs before him, but he likes to come back to the steaks to do it himself.  
  
“The dick at table 10 wants it done again,” the waiter, Taehyung, announces as the door swings shut behind him, his eyes shaking as he brings in yet another plate of steak, done perfectly rare. “He said it’s still not rare enough.”  
  
“Again?! That’s the second time!” someone exclaims.  
  
Youngjae walks to the prep counter where Taehyung places the plate. It’s cut in half, and Youngjae presses into it with a finger. It oozes red. He grits his teeth and turns to the line cook, wiping his hand on the towel hanging at his waist.  
  
“Jongup, put another one on. I’ll cook it this time,” Youngjae says.  
  
“Yes, chef,” Jongup says, grabbing the tongs to drop another steak on the grill.  
  
Youngjae eases the tongs out of Jongup’s hand and stands in front of the grill, watching it intently. He cooks it in half the time it takes to cook it rare, and it’s still practically raw as he plates it. It pains him to serve it, but the customer gets what the customer wants. He grits his teeth the entire time he does it, though.  
  
Taehyung nods and takes the plate out. He returns a few minutes later, irritation clear in his eyes. He’s holding the plate. He places it on the prep counter in front of Youngjae. He doesn’t even have to say anything, and Youngjae already knows.  
  
“It’s not rare enough,” Youngjae spits, glaring at the impeccable plate.  
  
Youngjae sees red, bubbling to his boiling point. He knows how to sear a steak, and he doesn’t need some jack-off amateur critic telling him that his food isn’t being cooked correctly. He grabs a two-pronged barbecuing fork, jabs it into an eight ounce cut of steak, and makes his way to the double doors. There’s a panicked chorus of “chef?!” that echoes behind him, but he’s deaf to them. He pushes through the doors, ignoring the gasps and shocked murmurs coming from the diners.  
  
“Youngjae, what the fuck?” Yongguk whispers from behind the bar, more panicked than angry. He tries to reach for Youngjae, but Daehyun holds him back as a wide grin spreads across his face.  
  
Youngjae walks to table 10, and he almost scoffs (the dick is just as hideous as he imagined). He slams the raw steak onto the table, digging the fork as hard as he can into the wood. There’s a sick sort of satisfaction in watching the growing horror on the dick’s face as the blood from the meat oozes into the pristine white tablecloth.  
  
“Excuse me?! What is this?!” he exclaims, looking back and forth between the steak and Youngjae.  
  
“Is this rare enough for you, sir?” Youngjae asks, his voice dripping icicles. He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  
  
The dick’s mouth drops, and for a horrible second, Youngjae imagines himself shoving the raw steak into the guy’s mouth. “Are you fucking crazy?!”  
  
Before Youngjae can even reply, Yongguk is behind him with a stern hand on his shoulder and extremely apologetic smile on his lips.  
  
“Get back in the fucking kitchen,” Yongguk hisses into Youngjae’s ear before turning his smile on the dick. “I’m so sorry, sir, I can give you a—“  
  
“Yeah, I’m never coming back here,” the dick says, throwing his napkin on the table and storming out. “Your kitchen can’t even cook a steak correctly.”

“You don’t get to talk about me or my cooks like that,” Youngjae calls out, crossing his arms above his chest.  
  
As soon as the door slams shut, the entire restaurant goes silent. Yongguk tries to pry the fork out of the table, his face turning red at the combined effort and the stares from surrounding diners.  
  
“I can’t believe you,” Yongguk spits through gritted teeth.  
  
“He deserved it,” Youngjae replies as he spins on his heels back to the kitchen.  
  
Youngjae catches all the line cooks and most of the waitstaff crowded around the small circular windows in the double doors, their faces all squashed against each other to get a quick glance. They all disappear as soon as Youngjae comes into view. He pushes open the doors to shocked silence. The kitchen is surprisingly quiet as everybody goes back to work. He glances behind him, and he catches Yongguk glaring at him from the front, still trying to pull the steak from the table.  
  
Youngjae heads to the sink to wash his hands.  
  
//  
  
Reviews for Pièce De Résistance

Average: 4.7/5 stars  
  
1/5 stars  
“Unbelievable service! First, they couldn’t even cook a rare steak correctly. Second, after I sent the fourth one back, one of the chefs came out and slammed a RAW steak onto my table! I would sooner crawl through the sewers than eat here again.”  
\- Anonymous, 17 April  
  
  
5/5 stars  
“My boyfriend, now fiancé, proposed to me here last night, so it was a pretty eventful night by itself, but this jerk was constantly complaining about how the steak wasn’t being cooked correctly. Talk about a real dick. He sent the poor waiter back at least four times, and he was being a general nuisance to us and the surrounding tables. After the fourth time, the head chef walks out with a raw steak on a barbecuing fork and stabs it into the table. Badass. Overall, impeccable food and excellent service. If I could afford it, I’d come eat here everyday, if only to see the head chef put bad customers in their place.”  
\- Anonymous, 18 April  
  
//  
  
“Only you would think to come out of the kitchen with a fucking raw ass steak,” Yongguk says, pacing the empty area in front of the bar. “I know the guy was being a dick about it, but did you have to do that?”

Youngjae sits in one of the bar stools, cradling a glass of wine, courtesy of Daehyun, as he stares at Yongguk. He couldn’t care less about what one bad customer says. People who really appreciate his food will come regardless of what the reviews are. Besides, Yongguk can’t fire him. He’s the head chef. He runs the entire backbone of the restaurant.

“I saw him from here the whole time, he definitely had it coming,” Daehyun says, leaning against the bar counter. “He didn’t even clap for the newly engaged couple a few tables from his. A real asshole, if I’ve ever seen one.”

Yongguk sighs, bringing his hands up to rub his face. “You’re going to kill me someday, I swear.”

“Better me than anyone else,” Youngjae replies with a shrug.

Yongguk brings his hands down with a disapproving frown. “Youngjae…“

Youngjae’s phone rings in his pocket, and he shoots Yongguk an apologetic smile as he fishes it out. He looks at the screen. It’s a call from his sister. He walks away from the bar as he answers it.

“Noona?” Youngjae says. “What’s up?”

“I’m almost at your apartment,” she says, and from the constant rumble of background noise, Youngjae can tell that she’s driving.

“Oh.” Youngjae may have forgotten that his sister is coming up to Seoul for Lunar New Year. “Really? Already?”

There’s a pause before she bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, Yoo Youngjae, you forgot?”

Youngjae laughs, a little more uneasily than her. She’s going to kill him. “I’ve had…a busy day, noona. I’m almost done cleaning up here, actually. I should be home in maybe thirty minutes. But if you get there before me, you know where I keep the spare key.”

“Yeah, okay, sounds good,” his sister says. There’s the sound of something shuffling and muffled voices. “Junhong, say hi to Youngjae.”

Youngjae almost laughs because he can hear the quiet groan come from Junhong. It’s weird having a sixteen-year-old nephew when Youngjae is only twenty-nine himself. He feels less like an uncle and more like an older brother, if he’s being honest. He was barely thirteen when Junhong was born.

“Hi, hyung,” Junhong says.

“Junhong, how many times have I told you? He’s your uncle, not your hyung.”

Youngjae laughs. He could never get used to Junhong calling him uncle, but Youngjae’s sister insists on it.

“Hey, Junhong. How’s everything?” Youngjae asks.

“Fine,” Junhong replies. His voice comes fainter this time, like he’s holding the phone out. “There, I talked to him.”

“Youngjae, I’ll be there soon, okay? See you later,” his sister says.

“Alright. Bye, noona.” Youngjae ends the call and turns back to Yongguk and Daehyun at the bar. “Hey, I gotta go. I forgot my sister is coming up for Lunar New Years.”

“Tell her we say hi,” Yongguk says.

Daehyun waves, sipping his own glass of wine.

Youngjae takes off to the back to change out of his uniform. His thoughts bounce back and forth as he changes and gathers his things. He hasn’t even cleaned his apartment. Maybe if he takes the shortcuts, he’ll be able to make it back before his sister. They must be hungry from the trip. He should make them food. What does he have in the fridge? He hasn’t gone to the grocery store in a while. He bites his bottom lip, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulders. He waves to the other chefs eating their own dinners around the prep counter.

“Are you leaving now, chef?” Jongup asks, his mouth half-full of pasta. He points at the untouched plate full of spaghetti and meat with his fork. “We saved you a plate.”

“Oh, thanks,” Youngjae says. He takes a foil container from the side and dumps the spaghetti inside, grabbing the tongs from the big pot in the middle to pile in some more. This will save him from having to cook anything right now. “Sorry, I gotta go home. My sister is visiting.”

Youngjae closes up the container and waves one last time at the staff. He leaves with a chorus of bye’s and see you tomorrow’s trailing behind him.

When Youngjae opens the door to his apartment, it’s quiet and the lights are off. He looks around the apartment, wondering if his sister is playing a trick on him, but finds it completely empty. They should have made it here by now. He frowns, placing the container of spaghetti on the counter, and texts his sister. He places his phone down and begins unpacking the spaghetti. He’re barely bringing a plate down from the cabinets when his phone rings. He nearly drops the plate onto the counter, but he frowns when he sees that it’s an unfamiliar number. He answers anyway.

“Hello?” Youngjae says.

“Yoo Youngjae?” a voice asks, soft and kind and detached.

Youngjae blinks. “Yes?”

“I’m Dr. Park Minyoung at Seoul National Hospital. I’m very sorry to be telling you this, but your sister, Choi Youngmin and her son Choi Junhong, were in a car accident at around—“

Youngjae drops the plate to the floor, the ceramic shattering into hundreds of pieces. His breath stops. His hands are shaking. He can’t hear anything else the doctor is saying because his blood is rushing so loud in his ears. They were...what?

“Where… What hospital are they in right now?” Youngjae manages to choke out.

“Junhong is here at Seoul National Hospital. He’s in the ICU right now, but Youngmin, she...is dead. I’m so sorry.”

Youngjae hears her, but he doesn’t want to. He’s already rushing out of his apartment.

The drive to the hospital is a blur. The frantic rush to the front desk and the subsequent search for Junhong’s room is a blur. Youngjae doesn’t even know how his feet manage to carry him to Junhong’s room. He slides the door open as quietly as he can. His breath hitches as he sees Junhong’s unconscious form in the bed, his face littered with bloody scratches.

“Junhong,” Youngjae whispers, rushing to the chair at Junhong’s side. He takes Junhong’s hand, feeling the faint pulse beneath his fingertips beat in time with the incessant beeping of the monitor beside him. “Junhong, oh my god.”

The doctor appears in the doorway, her eyes tired but her smile comforting and sympathetic as she beckons Youngjae outside. He stands across from her, his peripheral still focused on Junhong through the window into his room.

“I’m Dr. Park Minyoung. We spoke on the phone,” she says, squeezing Youngjae’s hand when they shake. She glances at Junhong, bringing her hand back. “Fortunately, he sustained only minor injuries, but we’ll keep him overnight to runsome more tests just to be sure. As for Youngmin…” She pauses—to give him time to take it all in? Will he ever? “We believe that she died on the way to the hospital, but we did everything we could to revive her. I’m so sorry.”

Youngjae can’t even feel anything. He still can’t believe it. He was just talking to her just barely an hour ago. How could it all just...happen that quickly?

Minyoung glances at Junhong again. “Is there anyone Junhong can go to? A father, maybe?”

Youngjae shakes his head. The bastard has been dead long before Junhong could even remember. His voice is coarse as he replies. “N… No. I don’t even know his name. It’s just been my sister...and me.”

She nods, and she’s about to say something else, but the pager clipped to her pocket beeps. She looks at it briefly before turning her attention back to Youngjae. She places a hand on his arm and squeezes. “I’m sorry, I have to go check on something, but I’ll be around later, so you can talk to me if you have any more questions. Again, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Youngjae stands in the hall as he watches Minyoung walk away. He turns back to look into Junhong’s room. How is he going to tell Junhong? He sits back down in the chair beside Junhong’s bed, slumping down as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. He reaches out to take Junhong’s hand in his own, trying to ground himself with the steady heartbeat he feels beneath his fingertips.

“Hyung?” Junhong croaks. His hand in Youngjae’s twitches as he wakes up. He blinks bleary eyes at Youngjae, his eyebrows pulling together. “Where’s… Where’s mom?”

And for all the times Youngjae has put up a strong, cold front, when he hears Junhong’s small and uncertain voice, it all comes crumbling down. He feels the tears well up behind his eyes, and he doesn’t hold it back. He brings his head down to press into the back of Junhong’s hand, his shoulders trembling.

“I’m sorry, Junhong. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. She. Junhong, she…” Youngjae can’t even bring himself to say it.

When Youngjae looks up at Junhong again, he can see the tears streaming down his face. He stands up, bringing Junhong’s trembling and fragile frame into his arms.

All they have left is each other now.

//

The funeral is an uneventful affair in Mokpo. Only a few friends and close family members show up to the viewing, and just Youngjae and Junhong are present for the cremation. Junhong packs all his things into a case of luggage and a backpack that’s bigger than him while Youngjae sorts through his sister’s belongings. Most of it just gets donated or sold to thrift shops.

Overall, it’s a very lonely week for the both of them.

The scene starts like this.

The day after they return to Seoul, Youngjae doesn’t waste time getting back to his kitchen. He comes back late to the restaurant on a Tuesday because he had to enroll Junhong in the nearby high school. He walks into the restaurant, listening to the familiar muffled commotion coming from behind the closed doors. The energetic beat of a bubbly girl group song filters in through the doors, too, which is. Strange considering Youngjae doesn’t play music in his kitchen. It’s an unnecessary distraction.

Youngjae throws the doors open to find Jongup laughing and hanging onto the arm of some...new guy. Tall. Impossibly handsome. A smile that sparkles against the chrome counters. He’s dressed in the restaurant’s uniform, the fabric nearly straining against the wide line of his shoulders. Even Daehyun hangs out by the prep counters, leaning his elbows against the surface as he laughs with everybody.

“Um, hello?” Youngjae says, walking into the middle of the kitchen right next to Jongup and this new man.

The laughter abruptly stops. The song is still playing. Daehyun presses the pause button on his phone, engulfing the kitchen in a ringing silence. Everybody stares at Youngjae, not knowing what to do. He looks at each face, one by one, waiting for an explanation, but when no one speaks up, he sighs.

“What is this?” Youngjae asks.

Jongup lets go of the man’s arm, shuffling back to his station. The man wipes his hands on the apron hanging from his waist and holds a hand out to Youngjae.

“Hi, I’m Kim Himchan. It’s nice to meet you,” the man says with a wide smile. “Yongguk called me in to help Sujin while you were out.”

Sujin? She’s the sous chef. She should have been able to take over for him just fine.

“Nice to meet you too.” Youngjae takes Himchan’s hand just to be polite, and it’s broad and warm and it encompasses Youngjae’s so nicely, and maybe he lets go just a second longer than formalities call for. “And, uh, thanks. For that.”

Before Youngjae or Himchan can say anything else, Yongguk walks in, and if he notices the tense atmosphere, he doesn’t say anything about it. He walks right up to them, clapping them both on the shoulder.

“Oh, good, you’ve met,” Yongguk says with a smile.

Youngjae shoves Yongguk’s hand off and pulls him out of the kitchen.

“Hyung, what the fuck,” Youngjae hisses as the doors swing behind them. He spins around, shaking Yongguk’s hands off him. “Who is that?”

“Kim Himchan. He’s...a friend of a friend from college.” Yongguk sees that Youngjae is about to speak, and holds out a hand to stop him. “Before you say anything, I need you to understand something real quick. You do so much more than the average head chef. Sujin is an impressive sous chef, but she was getting too overwhelmed. I had no choice but to find someone.” He holds up his hands in an apologetic surrender. “Himchan has been doing pretty good, too. And he’s professionally trained.”

Youngjae blinks, and maybe it’s all the stress and grief piling up and spilling over, but he snaps. He can feel himself getting red in the face, and he’s probably going to regret this later. But it’s all coming out before he can stop himself.

“You think I care about how he was trained? Hyung, I couldn’t care less about that. I’m just trying to figure out what the hell he’s doing in my kitchen,” Youngjae says, pointing at the double doors. “Sujin is perfectly capable of taking over for me. I trust Sujin. I don’t trust this Kim Himchan you keep talking about. What if he’s been plating absolute shit? And you didn’t even bother to tell me you hired him?”

Yongguk sighs, but he remains patient with Youngjae. “I texted you. Last week. I said I was looking for another sous chef to handle the kitchen while you were out.”

And maybe Youngjae did see that, but he was busy planning a funeral, so forgive him if he forgot. That doesn’t mean he likes the thought of some stranger running his cooks. Who does Yongguk think he is?

“You’ve just been looking to replace me this whole time, haven’t you?” Youngjae spits with a scowl. “I helped you build this fuckin’ restaurant from the ground up, and this is how you show your appreciation? By replacing me? Are you serious?”

Yongguk frowns. “Youngjae, stop, I’m not— I’m— I thought you were gonna take more time off, and Sujin—“

Youngjae scoffs. “You couldn’t even consult me for this.”

Yongguk furrows his eyebrows, his mouth pulling up into a snarl, but before he can say anything, the doors push open. Youngjae whips around to find Kim Himchan walk out with a sheepish smile on his face. He notices the other line cooks dart away from the door back to their stations.

“What?” Youngjae asks, and he revels in the way Himchan flinches at the sharpness in his tone. “What do you want?”

“I was just here as a secondary sous chef, but… Now that you’re here—“ Himchan smiles, bowing his head a little. “—I’d hate to impose. I’ll take my leave now, don’t worry. It was an honor working at your restaurant.” He bows at both Youngjae and Yongguk, bent deep at the waist.

Yongguk frowns as Himchan returns into the kitchen to gather his things. “You scared him off. Are you happy now?” He sighs. “Sujin came to me after the first day you left on the verge of a breakdown. And do you know how many people I had to go through just to find someone who can handle the kitchen like you?”

Youngjae feels a hot flash of shame pulse through him, but he ignores it. “I was gone for a week and a half. How many people could you have found?”

“Ten. Ten people. For a while, I was having two people come in a day before I asked Himchan,” Yongguk replies. “Why can’t you accept that other people can help you do your job if you just let them?”

Because Youngjae is a perfectionist, and he refuses to admit it and despises being called out on it. It’s a vicious cycle.

Yongguk sighs, his expression softening, and Youngjae wants more than anything to stay angry right now. “Your sister just died. You’re the legal guardian for a teenager now. Give yourself some time to recover and settle into your new routine. You can’t expect yourself to not burn out by next week. Youngjae, please.”

Yongguk doesn’t let Youngjae reply because he’s already walking back into the kitchen, calling out for Himchan.

Youngjae looks into the kitchen, trying to calm himself down. He rubs his face with his hands, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes with a groan. He falls into the plush booth seat beside him, leaning his head back against the cushions.

“This is. Fucked up,” Youngjae mutters to himself. He sighs. At least Himchan is gone now.

Youngjae has never been one to follow Yongguk’s advice. He can handle himself. He’s done it before. What’s a couple other things on his plate?


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m leaving the country. I have to take care of my parents.”

Youngjae stares at Sujin and blinks. 

“You’re…just gonna leave?” Youngjae asks. He furrows his brows. “Sujin, you’re an excellent sous chef and well on your way to becoming the head chef of another restaurant. You’re willing to just...throw that all away?”

Sujin looks down at her folded hands in front of her. She says again, quieter, “I have to take care of my parents. My family needs the help.”

Youngjae frowns, but he nods. In his experience working with Sujin, he realized that she’s like him in the way that once she’s made up her mind, there’s no changing it. “Alright, I understand. If you ever need a reference, you can call me.”

Sujin smiles at him, small and grateful. “Thank you, chef.”

Sujin walks out of the kitchen, and Youngjae leans against the prep counter, crossing his arms above his chest. Now he needs another sous chef. With everything he’s already doing around the kitchen, can he possibly be both head _and_ sous chef? Before he can begin to spiral, Yongguk walks in. He places a comforting hand on Youngjae’s shoulder. 

“I’ll have a lineup of new people by tomorrow,” Yongguk says. “We’ll do interviews next Monday. Before we open.”

Youngjae nods. He figures he’s confident enough in his ability… “I don’t need another sous chef.”

Yongguk frowns, and Youngjae briefly wonders how deep the wrinkles in Yongguk’s face will get once they start forming. “You’ve barely been back for a month. You will _not_ —“

“Wouldn’t it be the better decision, though?” Youngjae argues. “If we don’t take on another sous chef, we can raise our line cooks’ wages and split Sujin’s among them.”

“Not at the cost of your health,” Yongguk says, and before Youngjae can interject, he continues, “I’m not speaking as a colleague, Youngjae. As your _friend_ , I can’t let you do that.” He shakes his head. “This shouldn’t even be an argument.”

So, when Monday morning comes around, Youngjae pouts beside Yongguk as they wait for their last interviewee to come in. They’ve been at it for the better part of a couple hours, and Youngjae is bored and ready to just randomly pick one because they’re all the same. None of them stand out to him. All have professional training. All worked in other restaurants around Seoul. All promising in their own right. 

“ _Please_ be professional,” Yongguk says, almost begging, as the last one pulls the door open. 

Youngjae frowns when he sees Kim Himchan sit down across from him with a smile. He turns to Yongguk, eyes wide, but Yongguk steps on his toes, practically _digs_ his heel in, and Youngjae jumps up, but he miraculously holds back the instinctive yelp that threatens to spill from him. He disguises it with a cough as he shakes Himchan’s hand. 

“Himchan-sshi. How nice to see you again,” Youngjae says with a pleasant smile. He is currently in his Happy Place. He is currently strangling Yongguk in his Happy Place. 

Himchan nods, taking Youngjae’s hand in his (it’s still just as warm). “You too, Youngjae-sshi. I’m sorry about Sujin. She was excellent to work with. She is _phenomenal_ in the kitchen.”

Youngjae nods. Any amateur can tell that Sujin is talented beyond compare. He liked her most for her tenacity. “You’d be right. So, tell me your experiences in a professional kitchen.”

Himchan tilts his head, but the smile on his face never wavers. Confidence. God, Youngjae hates that Himchan is such a high competitor already. He doesn’t _want_ to hire Himchan, but Himchan is already notable if he was able to replace _Youngjae_ in his own goddamn kitchen. 

“I started out at Le Gourmand in Hongdae as a line cook and worked my way up as the sous chef,” Himchan replies. He looks up for a moment in thought before back at Youngjae. “When Le Gourmand expanded into the States, the head chef at the time, Kim Seokjin, invited me to come with him to continue to be his sous chef.”

“And did you?” Youngjae asks. He doesn’t know why he’s so invested in Himchan’s career story, but he is anyway. 

“I declined the position. It’s not that I didn’t want to go to the States, I just wasn’t ready for that type of move.” Himchan pauses, like he’s trying to pick his next words, or trying to find a way to close it all up. “I’ve been traveling around South Korea as a line cook at various restaurants since then.”

Youngjae nods. He stands up, looking down at Himchan, who blinks up at him with wide eyes. “Come into the kitchen.”

Himchan doesn’t say anything, but he follows Youngjae anyway with Yongguk close behind. 

“I’m sick of these sit-down interviews. Can anyone get me a pan?” Youngjae says, clanging around in the kitchen. All the line cooks are prepping for opening, but they all scramble to get a pan. Jongup is the first to hand him one. “This is how I’ll judge if you’re good enough to be Sujin’s replacement. I want you to cook a steak. Any way you like.”

Himchan grins, rolling up his sleeves. “Any way?”

Youngjae nods. He watches Himchan move around the kitchen, grabbing whatever he needs. There’s a sort of grace and confident fluidity to his body as he moves around the kitchen. He works efficiently, sauteing chopped onions, garlic, and butter in one moment and then chopping up lemons in the next. He sprinkles a dash of salt, pepper, oregano into the pan. He takes a pair of tongs in his hand and lowers a cut of steak into the pan, flinching as the oil splashes on him, but he recovers quickly, the resolve on his face seemingly growing. 

“He’s good, isn’t he?” Yongguk whispers into Youngjae’s ear. 

Youngjae jumps up, scowling at Yongguk’s smug grin. “Anyone can make a pretty plate, but it won’t matter if it tastes like shit.”

Yongguk hums, shaking his head. “Don’t speak so lowly of him. You haven’t had a chance to eat his food yet.”

Le Gourmand specializes in French food. Youngjae isn’t expecting much. 

Except Himchan is cooking that steak exactly the same way Youngjae would. When it’s mostly cooked, he spoons the sauteed mix over the steak one last time and covers the pan with a lid. He takes the pan off the heat and begins setting up the plate. A sprig of rosemary and a splash of vinaigrette, topped off with the finished steak and sauce. 

Himchan wipes the rim of the plate with a dish towel before presenting it to Youngjae at the prep counter. He smiles, placing a fork and knife beside the plate. 

“Your steak,” Himchan says, bowing his head. 

Youngjae stares at the plate, almost awed by the simplicity of it. He has to snap himself out of it, remembering his own words before. 

_Anyone can make a pretty plate, but it won’t matter if it tastes like shit._

Youngjae picks up the fork and knife, cutting into the steak. It’s a perfect medium rare. He stares as it oozes red when he presses down into it. He schools his expression as he takes a bite. It’s buttery and soft, almost melting into his mouth. Flavorful, but not overly so. He can still taste the meat itself, accented by the garlic and butter. He gulps, knowing that he’s come to a decision already. 

Youngjae meets Yongguk’s eyes, and he wants to punch Yongguk just for the smug smile on his face. Himchan stares at him expectantly, as do the rest of the line cooks.

“I’ve come to a decision,” Youngjae announces, placing the utensils on the plate. He holds his hand out to Himchan. “You’re hired. You can come in tomorrow.”

Himchan looks at Youngjae’s hand, almost like he can’t believe it, before he grins, taking Youngjae’s hand in his own. 

“Thank you, chef.”

//

Youngjae sits at the bar, holding his head in his hands. It’s been a busy day, and he’s exhausted. He doesn’t know how he thought that he could take over Sujin’s position too. If his kitchen staff were any smaller, he thinks he’d be able to do it, but at its current size, he was beginning to fall apart at the seams, and his whole staff could tell. They were doing everything they could to collectively fill in Sujin’s position, but somehow, it was barely enough. 

“Tell Yongguk-hyung he’s writing my eulogy for my funeral,” Youngjae mutters, slouching into the plush leather barstool. 

“When you die, can I have your old record player?” Daehyun asks. 

“No. That’s going to Yongguk-hyung,” Youngjae replies, not even bothering to look up. 

Yongguk walks out of the kitchen, the doors swinging behind him as he sits at the bar beside Youngjae. “Shouldn’t you be picking up that kid by now?”

Youngjae shoots up, his heart spiking and eyes widening. He looks at the time on his phone. 11:41 PM. Beneath that are notifications from Junhong: three texts and five missed calls, all spaced out within the hour he was supposed to be picked up.

“Ohhhh _shit_ ,” Youngjae groans. Usually, he picks up Junhong during his break once school is over in the evening and has him stay at the restaurant until they’re all closed up, but today. 

Today, Youngjae was running on autopilot because it was too hectic for him to consciously remind himself to pick up Junhong and he was too busy covering Sujin’s position and now Junhong is going to hate him and—

“You’re spiraling,” Yongguk says, snapping his fingers in Youngjae’s face. He points at the door as Youngjae blinks out of his trance. “Go. Pick him up and head straight home. I got it here. You’ve done enough already.”

Youngjae nods, rubbing his eyes with his palms as he stumbles out of the barstool and into the back room. 

When Youngjae reaches Junhong’s high school, Junhong is crouched against the brick pillar by the gates, lit only by the streetlights, his nose buried in his phone. Youngjae feels his heart sink with guilt, and he sighs before pulling up in front of Junhong. He looks up from his phone, his frown illuminated by the light coming from his screen. He stands up, shouldering his backpack before Youngjae can even roll down the window.

Junhong slams the door once he gets in, shaking the car.

“Junhong, I’m _so_ sorry. I got busy at work and forgot...” Youngjae doesn’t even finish. He bites his bottom lip. It’s still bad no matter how apologetic he sounds. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I get it,” Junhong replies, but his voice is cold. “Let’s just go home, hyung. I’m tired.”

Youngjae gulps, and he drives back to his apartment. He doesn’t know the first thing about dealing with teenagers. Yes, he was a teenager once, but this is different. How is he supposed to know how to deal with a teenager he’s seen maybe twice a year? As much as he loves Junhong, as much as he wants to make this work, what else is he supposed to do?

When Youngjae opens the door to his apartment, Junhong toes off his shoes and heads straight for his room, slamming the door. Youngjae wants to be mad, but he’s still too guilty to do anything else besides sit at his couch and stare at the ceiling. His sister was always who he went to for guidance, but her ashes currently sit in the cemetery columbarium with their parents, so he can’t exactly call her anymore.

“Noona, I’m so sorry,” Youngjae whispers, feeling his eyes begin to sting with tears. “How the fuck did you do this alone?”

Youngjae just wants a drink, but he knows Junhong must be hungry. He stands up and heads into the kitchen to make something, even if it’s something simple. He sighs when he opens his near empty fridge. He hasn’t gone to the grocery store this week, and he forgot to bring back some leftovers from work. Junhong will have to settle for instant ramen. 

As Youngjae stirs the noodles in a pot of boiling water, he can hear Junhong move around in his room. He tries to ignore the guilt gnawing at his gut. He just wants this to work because he understands how hard this is for Junhong. Youngjae’s busy and seemingly all-encompassing schedule doesn’t make it any easier, that’s for sure. He just...wishes he had more _time_ , or at least not need to sleep more than five hours to function.

Once the noodles are done, he removes them and sets them in a bowl, leaving the broth to cook a stalk of bok choy, an egg, and leftover meat from the restaurant he brought in yesterday. It’s not much, but it’ll have to do. It’s the freshest ingredients he has on hand.

As a chef, on principle, he refuses to serve things that he himself won’t enjoy. It’s not his fault he has such a _refined_ palate.

After Youngjae places everything into the bowl and cleans up, he knocks on Junhong’s door. “Hey, Junhong. I made dinner. If you’re still awake. It’s in the kitchen.”

Youngjae doesn’t get a reply, but he can hear the faint scratch of a pencil on paper, and Junhong’s light is still on. He turns away from the door, and heads into his own room. The door clicks shut, and he waits. It’s not long until Junhong’s door opens, nearly quiet, and Youngjae can hear Junhong’s socked footsteps pad down along the wooden floor. They stop in the kitchen, and then they make their way back to his room.

Youngjae gulps. At least Junhong isn’t starving, but that doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at Youngjae’s stomach.

//

Reviews for Pièce De Résistance

Average: 4.5/5 stars

_4/5 stars_

Excellent food, as always, but it’s a little different lately. Not to say that that’s a bad thing, change can be beneficial, but just something to note. Has there been a change in chefs lately? A shame if Yoo Youngjae were to leave so suddenly. 

_\- Anonymous, 24 May_

//

“I need two house salads, a calamari appetizer, seared salmon and gochujang lamb,” Youngjae announces, putting up new orders and taking down old orders from the clips hanging above the prep counter. He takes ready plates and puts finishing touches on them, a pinch of basil above a pile of pasta, a drizzle of sauce on a lamb chop. 

“Right away, chef,” the line cooks echo behind him. 

“Hup— ayyy!” Himchan exclaims, followed by a laugh and several short cheers as the sound of sizzling food fills the kitchen. 

Youngjae watches as Himchan sears a pan of noodles, the fire on the burner growing suspiciously large, the giddy smile on his face even larger. Jongup and several other line cooks laugh with him. Youngjae slams a hand down on the prep counter, the resounding bang quieting the entire kitchen. 

“We have customers waiting for food. We can’t afford to be _distracted_ ,” Youngjae says, punctuating that last word with a glare in Himchan’s direction. 

The line cooks return to a functional silence, talking only where necessary, but Himchan stares at Youngjae, his head tilted, eyes boring into Youngjae’s soul, like he’s trying to put together a puzzle he can’t seem to figure out. 

Youngjae spins on his heel, throwing open the door into the massive refrigerator and sinking into a crouch, down in a corner that isn’t visible from the small window in the door. This is how he copes. The welcoming chill is a haven in the heat and stress of the kitchen, the only place he can take a quick break and not be disturbed. 

The alarm on Youngjae’s phone goes off. He jumps, digging his phone out of his pocket. It’s the alarm he labeled “Pick up Junhong”. He looks at the time (9:30 PM), and groans. How is it already 9:30? He stands up and pushes the door open. 

“I’m picking up Junhong now. I’ll be back in thirty minutes,” Youngjae announces, already untying the apron at his waist. 

“Yes, chef,” is the response. 

“Himchan-sshi?” Youngjae asks, meeting Himchan’s eye. 

Himchan smiles, giving Youngjae a thumbs-up. “I can handle this, chef.”

As much as Youngjae doesn’t like the idea of Himchan cooking in his kitchen, he can respect a good sous chef when he sees one, and in this case, Himchan is an _excellent_ sous chef. Youngjae nods and hangs his apron on the hooks hanging by the door. 

It’s been a week and Junhong still won’t talk to Youngjae. He doesn’t know what to do. When Junhong comes into Youngjae’s car, he slams the door shut, eyes glued to his phone, barely a “hey, hyung” as he slides into a slump in his seat. 

“How was school?” Youngjae asks as he turns onto the main street. 

“Fine,” Junhong replies with a shrug. 

Youngjae bites his bottom lip, his hands gripping his steering wheel to keep from trembling. “Junhong, is there...something wrong?”

Junhong frowns, turning away from his phone to look at Youngjae, and while Youngjae can’t turn to look at Junhong directly, he can feel the daggers boring into him. 

“I said I’m _fine_ , hyung,” Junhong says. 

Youngjae doesn’t say anything else, but he hates this. He hates the fact that they’re tip toeing around each other now. He hates not being able to talk to Junhong like he could before. He hates that he’s trying to be understanding, but Junhong isn’t letting him. 

The drive back to the kitchen is silent. As soon as Youngjae stops the car, Junhong walks into the restaurant without a second glance back. Youngjae leans back into his seat, closing his eyes and preparing himself for the stress once again. He gets out of his car and heads once more into the kitchen. Junhong is already sitting at his designated corner, a small table nestled in the corner where he can’t get in the way of the cooks or waiters. He has a textbook and notebook out on the table with headphones in his ears. 

Youngjae grabs his apron and ties it around his waist. 

“Welcome back, chef,” the line cooks chorus as he throws himself back in. 

“Did I miss anything?” Youngjae asks Himchan. 

“No, chef,” Himchan replies with a smile as he takes over a pot of cooking spaghetti. 

Youngjae nods. “Good.” Before he throws himself into his work, he turns back to look at Himchan. “Thanks.”

Himchan looks up from the pot, blinking wide eyes before breaking out into a wide smile. “Of course.”

It’s easy for Youngjae to lose track of time while he’s working. With a constant flow of orders coming in and food going out, he tends to lose himself in the chaos, grounded only by the scent of food swirling around him. By closing time, things are starting to wind down as the last customers close their checks and leave. Youngjae wipes the sweat off his brow with a dish towel, glancing at Junhong, who’s still focused intently on his homework. 

Himchan brushes past Youngjae, holding a bowl of rice, grilled steak, and chopped vegetables, and brings it to Junhong. Before Youngjae can even think to stop Himchan, he’s already sitting across from Junhong. Youngjae doesn’t mean to, but he begins to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Can… I help you?” Junhong asks as he pulls his headphones down around his neck. 

Himchan places the bowl on the table with a smile. “You’ve been going at that since you got here. You’re probably hungry. I know I am.”

Junhong shies away from Himchan, a look of mild irritation appearing on his face. “What, you’ve been watching me?”

“Not every kitchen has a high school student sitting in the corner doing homework,” Himchan replies. “You’re kinda hard to miss.”

Junhong scoffs, and before he’s about to put his headphones back on, Himchan says, “You should eat.” He stands up again, pushing the bowl a little closer towards Junhong before walking back to the sinks to help clean up the dishes. 

Junhong glances up, and Youngjae quickly looks away. In the corner of his eye, he catches Junhong pull his headphones back up over his ears and begin eating, slow at first, then he’s nearly shoveling spoonfuls into his mouth. Youngjae feels bad suddenly. He’s gotten so used to pushing away his own needs that he forgot he’s not just caring for himself anymore. 

Youngjae walks over to the sinks and stands beside Himchan, taking the wet dishes and drying them with a clean towel. “Thanks…for that.”

“For what?” Himchan asks. 

“For…” Youngjae doesn’t want to spell it out. He doesn’t even want to admit that Himchan has been such an immense help in the kitchen already. How can he allow Himchan to help him with _Junhong_ as well? “For that.” He nods towards Junhong’s general direction behind him. 

Himchan smiles. “I know how hard it can be taking care of teenagers. He’ll come around eventually. Little brothers always do.”

Youngjae blinks. Does Himchan think he and Junhong…are brothers? What did Yongguk tell him? “Yeah… Thanks.”

Once Youngjae is finished cleaning up, he goes to look for Yongguk, who’s sitting at the bar while Daehyun cleans up the counter. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Yongguk says, taking a sip of wine. 

Youngjae sits in the bar stool beside Yongguk, leaning close in case someone might hear. “Did you tell Himchan that Junhong’s my little brother?”

Yongguk raises an eyebrow. “No, why?”

“He thinks Junhong is my brother,” Youngjae replies. “Why would you tell him that?”

“I just told him you’re taking care of a relative now, and I guess he drew his own conclusions,” Yongguk replies with a shrug. 

“Plus, the kid calls you hyung. _I’d_ think you two were brothers,” Daehyun adds. “I don’t see what the problem is.”

Youngjae furrows his brows. “It’s…not. I was just wondering.”

“I think you need a drink,” Daehyun says, holding up a bottle of opened wine. “Ease your mind, Jae. Take a load off.”

Youngjae frowns at Daehyun’s inviting smile. “I still have to drive home.”

“Take the bottle and drink at home, then,” Daehyun says, rolling his eyes. “Not that hard.” He takes a cork and shoves it into the bottle before handing it into Youngjae’s unwilling hands. 

Youngjae frowns, but he holds it as he walks back to the kitchen. Junhong has his things all packed up in his backpack, and he’s looking into his phone. How much longer is Youngjae supposed to keep this up?

Throughout the week, Himchan keeps giving food to Junhong, which also means they’re talking to each other. It shouldn’t be a problem, except... Youngjae hasn’t seen Junhong laugh until he saw Himchan make a dumb joke (that even Youngjae hates to admit laughing at).

“Junhong-ah!” Himchan exclaims. 

Junhong startles, his wide eyes going impossibly wider as he looks up from his books at Himchan walking over. “...yes?”

“What do you call a cow with no legs?” Himchan asks, his eyes practically sparkling. 

Junhong, ever the victim of Himchan’s seemingly never ending stream of jokes lately, stares blankly at him. “What?”

Himchan, his smile wide enough to nearly split his face, his eyes slipping into joyous crescents, exclaims, “Ground beef!”

Junhong tries to keep a straight face. Keyword being _tries_. He lets out a snort of a laugh as half of the kitchen groans and others give Himchan a sort of pity laugh. Himchan doesn’t let that affect him, though. His laugh is contagious, a squeaking sort of sound, and soon the entire kitchen is going along with him. 

Himchan places a bowl of food in front of Junhong. “Are you writing an essay? Take a break. Eat some food. It’s steak made especially by our favorite chef, Yoo Youngjae himself.”

Junhong doesn’t reach for the chopsticks, instead continuing to write in his notebook. “I’m not hungry right now.” He stops suddenly, his cheeks flushing, and Youngjae can tell his stomach just started growling. 

Himchan scoffs. “What? Is your arm too tired to feed yourself? Here, let me massage it for you.” He begins playfully punching Junhong’s arm, his face screwed in concentration like a professional boxer. 

“Stop! Fine! I’ll eat!” Junhong exclaims, swatting away at Himchan’s loosely curled fists, but he’s holding back a laugh, his smile just barely held back. 

Himchan stops, a lopsided grin on his face, as he ruffles Junhong’s hair. He walks away as Junhong picks up the chopsticks to eat. He gives Youngjae an inconspicuous thumbs-up as he passes by.

Youngjae tries to hide the pout that wants to form on his face.

At closing, Youngjae catches Himchan sit in the chair across from Junhong, leaning close to talk to him in a hushed tone. Youngjae decides to busy himself with cleaning and packing up leftovers for everybody instead of dwelling on the fact that Himchan can talk to Junhong so easily. Youngjae isn’t exactly bothered. He just...absolutely _refuses_ to admit the chilling and slimy jealousy he feels when he sees how easily Junhong can talk to Himchan. Junhong is _his_ nephew. Shouldn’t _he_ be the one to make Junhong feel more at ease? Why does it have to be Himchan? Of all people?

The drive back to the apartment is quiet, just like every other time. Youngjae figures he might as well get used to it. He pulls up into the parking lot and turns off the engine, fully expecting Junhong to rush out, just like he always does, but he hesitates.

“Hey, hyung?” Junhong asks, placing his hands in his lap.

Youngjae turns to Junhong, trying not to look too surprised. “Yeah?”

“I… I’ve probably been a little unfair to you,” Junhong says, fiddling with his phone. He’s avoiding Youngjae’s eyes, his eyes focused on his hands. “I should probably be giving you a little more slack. Even though my mom died… She was also your sister.”

Youngjae isn’t the type to express his emotions outright, but he can also see that Junhong isn’t the type to either. He places a hand on Junhong’s shoulder. “It’s been a hard time for both of us, but we’ll get through this.” He squeezes. “I _am_ sorry I forgot to pick you up that one time.”

Junhong smiles, small and almost shy, and Youngjae can feel the gap that’d been growing between them begin to close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just. i really love cooking. and this lets me be self-indulgent lmao

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on my [tumblr](http://www.guernica-flow.tumblr.com)


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